I’ve read a lot of great books that end in tragedy. Books I loved, that were extremely well written, but for me, it’s not over until it is happily over. The way I see it, real life can be tough enough. All you have to do is look around to see someone suffering, but at heart, I’m an optimist. I like to believe everything works out in the end, and I don’t want to leave people on a down note. In my world, the evil villain will get what is coming to them. The guy will come to his senses and swear undying love. There won’t be sickness or money issues as they move into the house with the white picket fence.
It’s my way of holding onto the hope that no matter how bad it gets, if you dig deep and keep going, it will work out. Maybe it’s unrealistic, but until I’m dead and buried, I’ll be waiting for my own happily ever after.
When I started writing, I began with a plot. Then I realized fairly quickly that my characters didn’t like to be confined. This might sound odd, since they are made up in my head, but you would be amazed how they take on their own personalities. I would tell them to turn left, and they would turn right. If you’ve ever driven with someone that refuses to listen to the navigator, it’s kind of similar to that. I eventually adjusted. As they would make a different turn than planned, I would just redraw the map.
As I started my second novel, I thought that I just needed to be more detailed in my plot. That would keep those pesky characters in line. Didn’t work. I would tell them straight and they would pull a u-turn.
Strangely, the destination never changed. They still end up where they are supposed to be. I’m still rerouting with every wrong turn, so that I don’t end up completely off the map, but I’ve learned to loosen up a little and let them have their say. After all, it is their story.